Jacqueline of Golden River eBook

A man was coming up the street behind me, and I turned
to question him, but as I decreased my pace, he diminished
his also, and when I quickened mine, he went faster
as well. I began to have an uneasy sense that
he might be following me, and accordingly hastened
onward until I came to a road which seemed to lead
up the hill toward the ramparts.

The chateau now stood some distance upon my left,
but once I had reached the summit of the cliff it
would only be a short walk away.

The road, however, led me into a blind alley, the
farther extremity being the base of the cliff; but
another street emerged from it at a right angle, and
I plunged into this, believing that any of the byways
would eventually take me to the top of the acclivity.

As I entered this street I heard the footsteps behind
me quicken and, looking around, perceived that the
man was close upon me. He stopped at the moment
I did and disappeared in a small court.

There was nothing remarkable in this, only to my straining
eyes he seemed to bear a resemblance to the man with
the patch whom I had encountered at the corner of
Sixth Avenue on that night when I met Jacqueline.

I knew from Leroux’s statement to me that the
man had been a member of his gang. I was quite
able to take care of myself under normal circumstances.

But now—­I was afraid. The mighty
cliff before me, the silence of the deserted alleys
in which I wandered helplessly, the thought of Jacqueline
alone, waiting anxiously for my return, almost unmanned
me. I felt like a hunted man, and my safety,
upon which her own depended, attained an exaggerated
importance in my mind.

So I almost ran forward into the byway which seemed
to lead toward the summit, and as I did so I heard
the footsteps close behind me again.

I had entered one of the narrowest streets I had ever
seen, and the most curious. It was just wide
enough to admit the passage of a sleigh perhaps; the
crumbling and dilapidated old houses, which seemed
deserted, were connected overhead by a succession of
wooden bridges, and those on my left were built into
the solid rock, which rose sheer overhead.

In front of me the alley seemed to widen. I
almost ran; but when I reached it I found that it
was merely a bend in the passage, and the alley ran
on straight as before.

On my left hand was a tiny unfenced courtyard, not
more than six yards in area, and I turned into this
quickly and waited. I was confident that the
bend in the street had hidden me from my pursuer and,
as I anticipated, he came on at a swifter rate.

He was abreast of me when I put out my hand and grasped
him by the coat, while with the other I felt in my
pocket for my automatic pistol.

It was not there. I had left it in the pocket
of the overcoat which I had changed at the furrier’s
shop and had sent to the chateau. And I was
looking into the villainous face of the ruffian who
had knocked me down on Sixth Avenue.